limit light

my limit is found
though limitless i may be

an army gashes my front door
though they are enemy

this limited military might
might light my sight
with arrows of night
and i may find, tomorrow,
gone all my way just to lose
that which i never might have owned
had they been only gentle
kind, sympathetic to my night-plight.

while the notes rollick on
and i stay sterile
- encased in fabric both hard
and crisp to my touch which is
smooth: smooth like the child i may
never
have.

this sterility, forced,
on by force. my force?
my force?

this thick plastic tears at my eating
soul which devours all my tears,
but leaves only dust and alcohol swabs
that clean the womb which is already
both foul and clean.

recipe

mix in milk and some cinnamon
fold in bed sheets lacquered in sweat
pour into the mold and
let sit for three years.

when finally it's come to frui(t)
-ion, caesura the ties, grease the lines
soften the raining blows
out the candle

when your alphabet cake
quakes
then you know you've read the recipe

over there are so many ways
to correct and correlate and can

you feel what words have not(can)
convey ?

when your necklace catches my hair
and my necktie slides between your breasts
and we are tangled in uniquely-tying situation
can you still feel what words?

your orange shaped heart tickles in my chest
while your heart shaped face crinkles
with laughing at me

i could never fathom your depths
though i drag the bottom through

rigid heat curls
at my feet
tape binds my chest
and sweat binds all the rest
my feet fly over frozen ground
i find what once i'd sought to lose

i always seek what i've already found

your tread announces your presence
-i can feel what you might call fear
but it is only that you are too near
to know what actually i know
because you know toomuch

you already have what you learn

her breath hangs sweetly next to mine
churning mistspirals lap across our
bare faces hands and eyes
communication rots our silence
and she spirals along with her mist
out of mineour lives

she already(always) takes what she has

wheat breath fogs my glasses
made you bread
and you punish.

your hand in mine and
i made you bread
and you call it dry while i
am slowly drying.

while i lie, you lie, we lay
down in breadsoft linens
crusty oats flaking out of our teeth
which chew and snap and grind.

fact: shouting and clapping both
ruin bread.

summer brain, winter brain

my summer brain is slumbering.
i cannot picture warm suns and hot days.
only the swift pitching of the choppy waters and
too quick progression linger with me.

my autumn brain is boring.
i only watch the leaves pitching differently
down and dwindling, instead,
the motivated craze of ocean.

winter brain beckons.
sweaters to snuggle into and i cannot
picture anything unpleasant.
only the warmth of tea and fog-breath.

looking back, i'll foolishly cry
-i wished for winter.
when all i ever ask is summer.

sky is crying
damp traces of today
streaks clouding my vision.
my own heat fogs the
lenses as i
peel them back
to reveal a blurred
clarity all my own.

sky is clearing
but my vision still blurred.
i promise, knowing i won't,
and that doctor will never hold me
down in that chair, vinyl cutting harsh
into my back.

sky cleared, vision cleared, finger tarnished
and the blur is retreated to the fringes.
my phone rings - purr in the too-tight
back pocket -
the polish needed
and received.
and answered call chases all my qualms.

untitled poem

when i walk, i leave no footprints
the snow streaks across the ice leaving
perfect lines and dunes in 2-D.

when i run, i see my breath,
ghost air spraying out and up
plumes like the frills on the neck
of a long-dead parliament.

even when i run, though,
i leave no footprints --
no trace of me, no clout.
no stomp of anger, no ---

but, let's forget about that.
let's talk about the snow
and how it, how it, how it
freezes and sticks and melts
and clings and blows and
hurts and dances along the
sky, twirling, a feminine spectacle
seducing to death and frozen wonder.

--december '06, read at "hard freight" coffeeshop open mic